


it's fine this way

by soare



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:49:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soare/pseuds/soare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is Ariga’s Messiah, and Ariga is his Messiah – and they are gonna be okay.</p>
<p>(Five times Mamiya has messed up + One time he thinks he did alright)</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's fine this way

**One** )

Mamiya isn’t sure why he’s here.

He knows that is what everyone else is thinking too. The younger and energetic cadets are always talking and gloating about their own accomplishments (Mamiya’s name is never in these conversations) from their last training session. Or the whispers of gossip in the lounge when Mamiya walks by; and they don’t realize that he can hear them because his ears are really the only thing he has going for him right now.

Spectacular hearing is both a blessing and a curse.

Nowadays he has learned to turn the voices into white noise, keeping all of his attention focused on the pieces of steel in his gloved hands. They clink together in an irritable manner, because Mamiya _still_ hasn’t learned how to put back together a gun (it’s not the same as tuning his violin). Eventually he loses concentration, out of sheer frustration, and the parts slip out of his grip and fall onto the table.

With his concentration broken he can hear the rest of the trainees filing out of the classroom, done with the easy assignment. He only gives his exiting peers a quick glance over his shoulder before letting out a tiresome sigh and going back to reorganizing the mess of gun parts slew across his desk. He just about finishes straightening out everything when he can hear a heavy thump on the table, just two seats over.

Curious, Mamiya turns his head and notices one other trainee (slicked black hair and a hard face that went perfectly with the straight back posture) still seated. In front of him was a gun, all put together into one piece.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until the other turns his head, just enough to look back at Mamiya out of the corner of his eyes. The look almost makes Mamiya flinch until the other trainee looks away and picks up the gun. He started to take it apart one piece at a time. It took a few minutes (seven minutes and forty-seven seconds) until the gun was in pieces, just like Mamiya’s own.

Mamiya was watching the whole time, even when the other gave him another quick glance before suddenly picking up the pieces and starting to reassemble the gun once more. His hands moved at a much slower pace – Mamiya noticed. He would put together two pieces, but would wait before attaching the next part.

It was much easier (slower, casual) to follow and Mamiya found out that he was still watching by the end of it. When the other set the finished gun down and looked over Mamiya didn’t flinch this time. Instead he looked away and down at the pile of parts in front of him. He picked up one piece, then another, and started working from memory. When he got stumped he looked back over to the other young man and noticed his gun was only as completed as Mamiya’s own.

The other watched Mamiya, waited, completely patient with what appears to be his way of teaching. He would give hints to Mamiya – like picking up the next piece, and then letting Mamiya figure it out from there.

It worked. It took about twenty minutes, but in front of Mamiya was a sleek, black gun neatly put together without a single part amiss.

A smile grew on his lips (something he hasn’t done in a long while) and he turns to thank the other for his assistance. Except the other is already up and out the door by the time Mamiya realizes.

 

**Two** )

An awkward silence fills the air.

Temporary or not, the new Messiah assignments is odd enough that it makes everyone question Kamikita’s thoughts. Not that anyone (even the seniors) voiced their concerns, especially Mamiya who would rather keep his chin down until the end of the meeting.

Except his (new) Messiah decides not to keep quiet after all – and questions why his Messiah assignment wasn’t Shirazaki instead. He can see Yuuri trying to argue against the decision, only to be shot down not a second later. In the end Yuuri drops the conversation and steps back into line, right between Shirazaki and Mamiya.

Mamiya doesn’t exactly blame Yuuri for being against the new partnership. Yuuri and Shirazaki are close friends and have a history together. Things that Mamiya did not share with his new partner.

Which is why the first words Mamiya says to Yuuri are apologies.

There’s a pause before Yuuri eventually responds with, “It doesn’t matter.”

He thinks that his apologies only made things worst. And when Yuuri walks away without even sparing a glance behind he (and everyone else in the hallway) knows it did.

 

  
**Three** )

He’s beginning to wonder if there is something seriously wrong with him.

Whether it’s on the field or during training sessions, Mamiya always manages to find a way to slip up, and then dragging his Messiah down with him. First he messes up and fails their first field mission as Messiahs, then he practically points a gun point-blank at Yuuri’s face.

Mamiya thinks, as he slumps down onto one of the couches in the main lobby, that he should earn an award that says ‘ _almost got my Messiah killed_ ’. Twice.

His fingers twitch, itching to pluck at the wires of his violin as a way to relieve some stress. Except his violin is back in his shared room and Mamiya doesn’t want to risk the chance of running into Yuuri when the other is still (undoubtly) pissed. So he sits there, playing with the cuffs of his uniform to keep his hands busy with something.

The couch shakes a bit when a weight decides to drop down on the cushion at the far end. Mamiya blinked a couple times before slowly raising his head to find Ariga seated with a book in his hand. He expects Ariga to open the book and start reading right away, but instead Mamiya finds himself surprised when Ariga turns his head and their eyes meet.

The silence and the staring are a bit unnerving that Mamiya fidgets and is the first to break eye contact. His feet shuffle against the ground before he nervously blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, “Um, training today was interesting, wasn’t it, Ariga-san?”

He doesn’t get an answer right away, which is what he expects. What he doesn’t expect is the slightly raised brow on Ariga’s face when Mamiya finally looks back up at the other. An actual look of confusion on the black haired male’s face, yet Mamiya understands quite clearly considering the ridiculous choice of topic he decides to bring up.

“Interesting is one way to describe it,” Ariga finally says, before being the one to look away this time. He then flips open the book to a page where a corner was folded down, a placeholder, and Ariga uses his other hand to flatten out the bent page.

Mamiya assumes that’s the end of this conversation, until Ariga, without looking up from his book, speaks up again, “Also, you don’t have to address me so formally. I am younger than you.”

It’s already enough of a surprise that Ariga decides to keep the conversation going, but Mamiya certainly didn’t see this coming up. The surprise is clear because Mamiya wears his heart on his sleeve, especially when he has learned something about the quiet, keeps-to-himself Ariga.

“No way… You’re totally older than me,” Mamiya actually pouts, because everyone knows Ariga is a man of experience and maturity.

Mamiya doesn’t get much of a reaction out of Ariga, who is still looking down at his book. However he’s still on the same page, showing that he hasn’t really invested all his attention into his book just yet. “I read our profiles when the four of us started receiving training missions together.”

That explains a lot and is also a smart idea. One that Mamiya did not have, since he was more concern about living up to Sakrua’s standards and expectations at that time.

“I see,” Mamiya murmurs as he looks down at his hands in his lap. His fingers were still playing with the cuff of his other sleeve, signs of restlessness and nervousness seeping back into his system. “Then again, you’re really talented and level-headed all the time. I guess that’s why I thought you were older. You’re pretty amazing, Ariga.”

Mamiya doesn’t see the way Ariga quirks his eyebrow just now, too busy self-pitying when he thinks about all his mistakes and failures up until now. But all in all he isn't jealous of Ariga, more like he admires the other. Shirazaki is lucky to have a Messiah like Ariga. Unlike Mamiya who only knows how to anger his Messiah.

“Age doesn't have anything to do with skill,” Ariga spoke up so suddenly, but his words successfully brought Mamiya out of his thoughts. He then readjusts his seating position, straightening his back, and closes his book. “You shouldn't be too hard on yourself. Kamikita-san wouldn't have let you out onto the field if he didn't think you would have a chance.”

The brunette slowly blinks his eyes once, then twice, and his head is angled to the side like a very confused child. The only thing Mamiya has pulled from the last ten minutes he's been sitting here is that he's never heard Ariga say this much in the entire time they have been assigned to the same missions. Actually, Mamiya face feels a little warm once he realizes that this is Ariga's way of comforting him.

“Yuuri is stubborn, but you shouldn’t think that every mishap is your fault,” Ariga continues with his usual, steady voice. “If things don’t work out, that just mean you two weren’t meant to be Messiahs. It happens, Mamiya.”

So brutally honesty, yet it was the truth that Ariga was speaking of. Maybe this is just what he needed to hear, Mamiya thinks to himself, when he feels the corners of his lips tugging upwards into a small smile.

“Okay, okay. Though shouldn’t _you_ be addressing me with ‘- _san_ ’?”

Ariga turns his head with his face still as blank as ever (which almost makes Mamiya laugh, since he practically expected this). “…Really?”

“I’m kidding. Just ‘Mamiya’ is fine.”

 

**Four** )

“You look beautiful!”

“Complimenting me isn’t actually making me feel better about this, Yuuri,” Mamiya sighs before jutting out his lower lip so that he could blow air upwards at the stray strand of long, synthetic hair that fell into his face.

The wig is ungodly itchy, not to mention he’s not used to the tickling feeling of hair (whether fake or real) brushing against the bare skin of his revealed shoulders. Nor is he used to the draft of cool air around his smooth, clean-shaven legs (Mamiya choose to sacrifice his manly pride rather than to figure out how to work nylon tights) from the dress that only goes down to his knees. Don’t even get him started on the bra with some (clean) socks stuffed inside to give him the illusion that he had some feminine curves.

“But I really mean it, Mamiya,” Yuuri says in that genuine, soft-spoken voice of his. "No one is going to know that you're a man."

Mamiya finds it ironic how they get along better now that they are no longer Messiahs. If anyone asked him a few weeks ago about where their relationship stands, he would have never imagined that they would be here now, with Yuuri trying to show his support that Mamiya looks good in drag.

Another dreary sigh slips out as Mamiya tries to readjust the wig in order to find some sort of relief to the annoying itchiness. He gives up without finding any and decides to turn towards the full length mirror. The wig is a couple shades lighter than his own natural color, that’s long enough to reach the middle of his back. The dress itself was black too, sleeveless with a bit of a wavy flare that Kuroko insisted he wear because the style ‘suited’ Mamiya. Finally, Mamiya slipped his feet into a pair of black shoes that had a small heel to them (Mamiya absolutely refused to wear heels taller than one inch).

Speaking of Kuroko, the older man simply disappeared after dolling up Mamiya saying something about how he needed to get Ariga ready now.

Mamiya sent a silent prayer of good luck to Ariga while thinking to himself it was a mistake to accept this undercover mission.

Not that the mission itself was dangerous. All he and Ariga had to do was attend some fancy dinner party and gather intel. What the briefing failed to mention that they are suppose to pose as a couple.

“You’re pouting again,” Yuuri lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Shut up,” Mamiya replies, but without any real bite in his tone.

Either Yuuri decides to spare Mamiya after all, or he doesn't get a chance to say anymore since Kuroko is suddenly pushing a suited up Ariga into the room. A pleased smile was spread across the older man's lips as he claps his hands together once and tilts his head to the side. “Done~! Doesn't Ariga just look absolutely perfect?”

Perfect is an understatement. Mamiya takes one look over his Messiah, taking note of how well the black suit fit around Ariga's tall frame. How those slim-fitted slacks concealed any leg muscle mass yet still gave him a bold statement.

And Mamiya doesn't realize that he hasn't said a word until Ariga raises a gloved hand to rub the back of his neck. His eyes are suddenly casted downwards too, whether in shame or embarrassment Mamiya can't figure out.

“It looks weird, doesn't it?” Ariga's voice does not falter in the least bit, but his stiff movements were enough to show the slightest bit of discomfort (how long has it been since Ariga didn't wear his Messiah uniform outside of here?).

Ariga's distress doesn't sit well with the older of the two. So Mamiya shakes his head furiously, until he stops when he realizes the wig might slip off. A light shade of red fans out across Mamiya's face when he busies himself by straightening out his wig.

“Y-You look fine,” Mamiya reassures his Messiah. “If there's anyone who looks weird, shouldn't that be me?”

He laughs, a little nervous, in hopes that this would lighten the awkward air around them. It's been a couple weeks since he was reassigned as Ariga's Messiah and, despite living in the same room even, Mamiya still can't read the other as well.

Ariga blinks a couple times, not that Mamiya can see since he's too busy with his fake hair. Then he removes his hand from the back of his neck, makes a small fist with it and covers his mouth as he forces out a small cough to catch Mamiya's attention. “This… suits you. There's nothing wrong with you.”

Mamiya doesn't get a chance to get even more embarrassed since Kuroko let's out a wail and suddenly grabs the both of them and brings them to his chest in an awkward hug. “You two are both beautiful!” Kuroko sobs over-dramatically in that motherly way that makes all of them smile.

Kuroko then pulls away, but he keeps an arm around Mamiya's shoulders. “Now then! We have to do your makeup, Ma~mi~ya!”

Accepting this mission was a mistake after all.

 

**Five** )

There’s a quiet sound of a twig snapping in half that makes Mamiya tense up, but not lose control of his violin playing. In fact his awareness goes unnoticed from the way the notes are being played continuously in a flawless manner.

He keeps playing, waiting, with eyes closed so that his hearing senses are heightened. When he’s sure that there’s someone right behind him, Mamiya drops his violin and the bow (inwardly cringing a bit because he doesn’t mean to treat his violin so roughly) to grab at the unwelcome visitor. He manages to grab an arm, which is good enough for Mamiya, and pulls hard enough to flip the person over his shoulder, effectively throwing the person onto the ground in front of him.

Mamiya’s eyes widen once he saw who he just man-handled.

“Ariga?!”

“...Yes...” Ariga lifts a free hand up to rub at his forehead.

Immediately Messiah releases his grip on his Messiah’s arm in a panicky rush before scooting back a bit to give Ariga some space. Luckily the grass is plush enough that the throw didn’t actually do that much bodily harm, since Ariga sat up and cleaned up himself up a bit without looking like he was in too much pain.

“Sorry,” Mamiya mumbles with shame, keeping his eyes down at his hands in his lap.

“Just remind me not to sneak up on you when you’re playing next time,” Ariga says as he pats himself down to smooth the wrinkles in his coat.

“Sorry,” Mamiya repeats.

“It’s fine. Stop apologizing.”

“Okay, sorry.”

There is a bit of an odd silence shared between the two, before Mamiya’s face turns red that it makes Ariga chuckle quietly.

 

+ **One** )

Mamiya isn’t sure why he’s here.

He has a very bad habit of hearing things and acting on it instead of thinking through it.

Especially when his sharp ears picked up on a settle ‘ _click_ ’ of a loaded gun, paired with footsteps that draw closer to his and Ariga’s location. Footsteps that Mamiya did not recognize as one of their own, and that sets off alarms in his head.

There’s too much going on and no time to warn Ariga either. So Mamiya does the first thing that crosses his mind: protect his Messiah.

He manages to throw himself and cover Ariga’s body with his own the moment his ears hear a gun blast. A piercing pain suddenly flares up in his side, and then a second shot in his shoulder. The pain makes him want to scream, but instead his mind screams _protect, protect, protect Ariga_.

Mamiya doesn’t even hear the other over the turmoil mess his mind is in right now. Can’t even care for his own well-fare when Mamiya is too busy using his uninjured arm to flip his jacket open so he could reach for the handgun in his leg holster. He pulls the gun out and already has the safety switched off by the time he extends his arm out to take aim. He didn’t even have to look over his shoulder to know where the target is, his ears knew exactly where to shoot and he did.

He hears the heavy thud of a body dropping onto the ground, his target, but Mamiya doesn’t drop his arm just yet. Around the end of the hallway is another pair of footsteps – more rushing and more frantic – and as soon as the enemy turns the corner Mamiya has already fired a second shot.

The second man drops dead and Mamiya doesn’t hear a third one coming, so his own arm drops his gun before it falls limp at his side. The adrenaline is fading away and the warm blood slipping down his arm reminds him of his humanity. His vision blurs from dizziness and Mamiya waits to make contact with the floor, since he can no longer support himself.

The hard floor never comes and, instead, Mamiya feels strong arms pulling him in until he’s rested against someone’s chest. There are words being shouted over his head, but he’s too tired to pay attention. So Mamiya closes his eyes, welcoming he comfort of darkness, and the last thing he hears is Ariga’s erratic heartbeat.

 

There is a consistent beeping sound that draws Mamiya from his deep slumber. He feels numb, his throat is dry and going back to sleep sounds like a good idea; however, his body decides against sleep and Mamiya forces his eyes to open.

The first thing he sees is the off-white coloring of the ceiling. The lights in the room have been dimmed a bit, but the brightness still causes Mamiya to squint his eyes in discomfort. It takes some blinking and a few long seconds before his eyes could adjust so he could check out his surroundings. The beeping sound is coming from a heart monitor off to the side of the bed he was laying in, coupled by an IV bag stand that was connected into his left arm.

Mamiya turns his head just a bit and notices the roll of white bandages around his right shoulder, as well as feel a cloth gauze taped to his side by more bandages. Stupidly, he tries to move only to feel pain shooting up his arm and spine that he lets out a grunt of discomfort.

Which apparently was loud enough to catch Ariga’s attention, whom is sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair in the corner of the room. He looks tired, wrecked even given the state of his uniform. Dirt smudges were smeared here and there, and there were dark splotches and stains in the front. Mamiya recognizes those are blood stains; not Ariga's but his own.

Immediately, Ariga stands up and walks over to Mamiya’s bedside in just three long strides.

Tension hangs heavy above the two of them, and Mamiya wants to mention the dark bags under Ariga’s eyes, but Ariga is the first to speak up after taking a deep breath. “…How are you feeling?”

While Mamiya has a hard time reading Ariga, he has a feeling that he’s on point when he thinks that isn’t the first thing Ariga wanted to say. He can tell, in his voice and eyes, that his Messiah had so much to say.

Still, Mamiya weakly smiles as he ignores the dull ache in his shoulder. “I’m fine.”

He wants to know what happened after he blacked out. Was the mission successful, did anyone else get hurt, how did they get out of there alive. But that was it – they were alive and Mamiya is content with this for now. Though he does look out of the corner of his eyes to stare at his bandaged shoulder, concern and worry within.

“Your shoulder is going to be fine,” Ariga supplies helpfully – and Mamiya lets out a small breath of relief (he can still play the violin, he can still pick up a gun, he’s not useless).

“That’s good––“

“Don’t do that next time.”

Ariga’s sharp tongue made the wounded one blink sheepishly a couple of times. Nothing looks different with Ariga (all hard face and fixed posture) but Mamiya could have sworn he heard the tiniest bit of anger coming out from the other.

“Don’t protect me like that,” Ariga continues, this time with a steadier voice. “You got lucky this time.”

“Oh,” Mamiya mumbles dumbly, ashamed and feeling smaller than ever. “I-It’s fine, as long as you’re okay–“

The harsh, cold look in Ariga’s narrowed eyes made the words die out on Mamiya’s tongue. An uneasy silence settles in and the distance between the two of them seems larger than ever. This isn’t the first time that they let silence take over their conversations. Mamiya never knows what is appropriate to say, while Ariga never volunteers to start a conversation.

Heavy footsteps echo in the small room as Ariga turns on his heels and walks out. Maybe he's going to tell someone that Mamiya has regained consciousness, or maybe he's tired of being in the same room as someone who messed up the mission.

The last view of his Messiah's back as the door clicks shut leaves a rock lodged in Mamiya's throat. Disappointment hits him like a bullet when he rolls onto his good side, back to the door, and draws the thin blanket sheet up to his chin.

Repeatedly Mamiya tells himself that this is fine. Ariga did not get hurt, he's going to live; everything is fine. But then he thinks about Ariga's bloodstained uniform, about the look that Ariga had on his face when he left — and none of this sits well with Mamiya.

He throws off the blanket and pushes his arms into the bed to help himself up. His side and shoulder are aching in pain, and Mamiya needs to put more weight onto his good side, but eventually he managed to sit up. He probably shouldn't do this, but Mamiya carefully takes out the IV needed in his arm and rips off any other the wires attached. No longer hooked up to anything he slowly and carefully throws his leg over the side of the bed.

The tiled floor is freezing when he slides himself off of the bed and onto his own feet. He has to lean against the bed for support while he tries to regain feeling back in his legs (he wonders how long has he been out). The only thing he’s wearing are his pants, while the rest of him is bandaged up like a mummy, and his shirt and jacket are nowhere in sight (most likely thrown away considering the damage that was done).

Though there is no time to worry about appearance. Not when Ariga was getting further and further away. With a deep breath Mamiya pushes himself off of the bed and he starts to make his way across the room. He holds his side as he walks, ignoring the numbness throughout his body with stiff movements.

Whatever is in the IV pack is probably some sort of painkiller, and Mamiya needed to find Ariga before it wore off and someone else finds him and forces him back into bed.

Mamiya doesn’t want to rest. He wants to see Ariga, _he needs_ ––

“Ariga!” He yells with a hoarse and dry throat the moment he opens the door, hoping that Ariga was close by enough to be heard.

It turns out that Ariga was close, closer than Mamiya even thought before he opened the door into the hallway. His Messiah is leaning against the wall right next to the doorframe. He is literally less than a foot away from Mamiya.

A look of surprise is on Ariga’s face, because isn’t Mamiya suppose to bed in bed. While Mamiya looked just as equally surprised, because didn’t Ariga walk away for good.

They both probably look ridiculous is the first thought that crosses Mamiya’s mind when he finds his legs too weak that he’s falling to his knees. This, of course, puts Ariga on red-alert when he kneels down and puts his hands on Mamiya’s shoulder (a firm grip on the healthy shoulder and a more cautious touch on the wounded one) for support.

“What are you doing? You should be––“

“I’m sorry,” Mamiya cuts off his Messiah with a soft voice. Then, with a deep breath, he lifts his head so that he’s looking at Ariga right in the eyes.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, _but_ ,” He repeats with an added emphasis on the last word. “I’m not sorry for covering you the way I did.”

It chokes him up to think about that. Not the part where he almost lost his life to protect the other; but the idea of Ariga being the one who gets hurt is something he doesn’t want to ever think about. Just the thought alone makes his vision blurry, because that alone scares Mamiya so much that he almost wants to cry.

Embarrassed, Mamiya looks down and stares at a loose thread on the lining of his pants. “I know I’m more trouble than worth, and that I’m probably the worst Messiah ever, but–– _but_ I’m your Messiah.”

Mamiya knows that his voice is shaking, trembling along with his shoulders when he feels them sag a bit from exhaustion. There’s tears pooling at the corner of his eyes but he refuses to let them fall. So he takes a moment to wonder if Ariga even remembers all the time he’s been there for Mamiya. Even if those times Ariga’s intentions weren’t to be supportive or helpful (because Ariga is a man of mission, someone who doesn’t dilly-dally and wants things to be straight to the point), but to Mamiya that was all he needed.

Ariga deserves better. Someone more talented, more suitable; but until then–– _please, just please_ ––let Mamiya stay by his side.

“Mamiya, you’re an idiot.”

The response is so blunt that Mamiya flinches and blinks, causing the tears to stream down his cheeks. Mamiya’s messy state makes Ariga let out a small sigh as he raises a hand to wipe the tears away. Once Ariga cleans up Mamiya, he suddenly leans forward until their foreheads are barely touching.

“Being Messiahs is a two-way street,” Ariga says quietly.

Ariga slowly moves away a bit, probably feeling a little too awkward with the close contact. However, he does keep one hand pressed gently against the side of Mamiya’s face. “So stop thinking it’s fine if you die for me. I'm all that you have, just as you are all that I have."

Mamiya is nowhere anywhere near perfect, but maybe he doesn’t need to be. Not when Ariga is holding him so gently because just as Mamiya was worried about losing Ariga, Ariga was also scared of losing Mamiya.

“Okay. I’m sorry,” Mamiya says as he feels the corner of his lips tug up into a small, reassuring smile.

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for,” Ariga responds with a small huff. Yet the gentle slide of thumb across Mamiya's cheek does not go amiss.

“Ah, right, sorry… anyway.”

The second apology is worth the rare smile that Mamiya gets from Ariga in the end.

Later, when Mamiya is healed and back on duty, things will be back to the way they were. He will no doubt make mistakes, but he won't be so hard on himself when Ariga is there by his side to help lift the burden off of his shoulders. And in return Mamiya will silently sit by Ariga's side in their room, providing a comforting heat for Ariga in their shared silence. Ariga will always be there as an anchor for Mamiya, and Mamiya will always be there because he’s finally done running away.

He is Ariga’s Messiah, and Ariga is his Messiah – and they are gonna be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> this is trash  
> i am trash
> 
> i apologize for how ooc either of them are
> 
> i actually don't know their ages. i based that part off of the theory here: http://rz-jocelyn.tumblr.com/post/120444349691/so-i-was-just-curious-about-the-ages-of-the
> 
> the ending came out more serious than i thought and it doesn't fit the rest of the mood i'm sorry


End file.
